Saturday, April 30, 2011

Night Falls and the Sun Rises

I think truck, a pretty buckle-studded road of sheer amber lighting, no more suffering

vehicle, clean ceiling, leak in the hope called child, no more such a thing. Liken the child to hope-likeliness- sofabed, something corrupt and fussy and perfect that leads you to keep going

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

I know this duality, this double nostalgia

There is a solitude in seeing you, followed by your company when you are gone

There is a blindness in seeing you, followed by the sight of you when you are gone

Monday, April 25, 2011

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Moon. Tide. Puppet.

Pulp-puppet tied to such a shore as if it was/as if it wasn't me, or according to something giant as the bloom'sbeam becomes to utter its only lines in tongues/ to the atlas/ do the brackets indicate people getting along, or people so similar they are at war along the lines of assimilation, chanting I'll win the way I've always done, by being gone when they come

I think it means some limbs made sunstark in the sand (a flag up, a hand you clutched in the dark) on the basis of the strings pulling them from unreplacement. Not that they were buried there. (Fixed. Fix me.) That they were there. That to be barely there worked better, like the red segment of any night. Where the freight of bimbos and overt thinking mingles in those dances done between prayers to ibis--Flipping through an atlas you notice the black bodies. Looking at it meticulously, you notice no one. Flipping through it again, you grow an ego. That causes you abandonment. The word we all duck with lies and husbands until, flipping through it again, you aren't its rival, it has no use for you. People stay as close as they go and the only distance showing flips through me in a tunnel the shape of remembering forward is like a spell without the effort or satire, or like us before the atlas and before ibis and it's all alright

Friday, April 22, 2011

Truth is in the way

The earth is made of
heaven. (He meant heathens, he meant)
Error has no nest (maybe when you're ready. The rest is home already. The already of them)
No one has ever been lost (no one will ever be lost)
All is truth and way (truth is in the way, he meant, of earth, patiently. Moving toward. Moving four words into Adam. That planet of moods that stoops to numb some nights with him)

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


If you hear yourself scream in a dream it is said to mean something unbreakable is happening. That's what it means. Fat penned graffiti on the yuppie's gathering bricks. Which one is me. Which one is listening. Which one is the scribe who writes through espionage to attention, to go on undetected. Like, yeah, what.?, I said it. To keep a part of the record kept, and kite weather. I tend to like the acoustics of flying more than the scream that flung me into it. But it was worth it. I watched the means replenish. Hipsters wearing tender jeans. Rappers wearing tender jeans. Executives. It's not the tenderness of trust, it's the tenderness of fear. Otherness blue. It frightens me. It trusts me. To be what's proper of otherness. And it's kinda infantilizing. The scream. The them. The pen. The denim. The tendering. Othering. No the other one. And whichever one woke me up to unbroken numbers, up to the once. To the 1 again.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Heterotopic Phrases

Can you lend a nigga a pencil
or some kind of ritual

I am speaking. I am singing. Must have sung all day

Can you lend a nigga pencil, now. The sun is a kind ritual. Is it called "Chicken Run" or "Chicken Don't Run," band. Either way, I'll stay, maybe join and play the triangle. Cause that reminds me of the delta. Southern chivalry. All the love. All the luck. What does it mean for the army ("to many young musicians, today's army is an attractive, meaningful alternative to a job or career in civilian life," the ad read, a chance to travel) if I shred their banner wiggling in the air like loose barricades after a blast, and saying something triumphant about some blind ritual like Good Morning, Sunshine, I ain't the cat y'all saw yesterday Please don't climb those ladders

Friday, April 15, 2011

Fictions of the Interlude (Reprise)

Manhattan Research (delicate heir)

There's an advantage to lumping all your fears together, so they don't get mixed up with other things

I fear the dictator, up close. Once he hung a man for picking an American's pocket, I read, in an essay on Zaire where there was dictator up close. There's a disadvantage to lumping all your loves together and calling it a place or to govern is a disadvantage. You love them all. Admit it. One by one. Dissolving. You love them all.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

My gestures break away from me

And I see them in the air, like the vanes of a windmill, and I feel my life circulating inside them

A pretense the size of insight or
What creed meant inside a speech, what it meant in a name, and silently, if you leave a space for it was ready to be a motion, something meaningless before its rhythm. Some runaway sense made me stay, let him stay, believing in patterns, patrilineal, all the wrong shields attend all the righteous with temptation and let them turn to it. Our gestures break away from us as what togetherness does to push us apart. The sparkle of physics translates to the crackle of rain and back
to the ark
we hid in a fable in their favorite book. Rebel army. Red rain dream. Famous venue. Fancy back seat. Practicing parallels
(We be their) Militant fantasy. To float in the space between

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

A Prelude of Courtesies (Taurus in the Arena of Life)

He said Otherwise you'll wander forever, in an absurd shadow, seeking what you never gave

Slave name. Slave name. Pointing away from yourself. Scolding the very things you desire.

Memory is more like hope than anything

You fill me with--

And the erotic is what not to mention

Even if it exists (gods were never decent) it's wrong to be certain

Our elemental unison

My world of dreams fashioned in broad daylight

Yes, that is what gives

Monday, April 11, 2011


We all met at the Hot Bird
We gentrified Brooklyn together
I tried to get him to apologize, I wasn't gonna be the one...
Instead he became less and less interesting
His form an apology,
And how I nearly believed him, before it became true
There are liars, and storytellers, and a bonfire of the vanities (the man I love, I love him easy, his name comes easy, his main alias is me, scanning the celebration looking for my reason to be where he isn't, walking on the wings of the moment now
All clichés lead to California
Belief that the machine, in a swarm, seems human, and humming a proof tune
Disenchantment/disenchantment at the Hot Bird, Hot Bird, Hot Bird, we cheered and Nearly God was closer, so far, from what I heard

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Friday, April 8, 2011

Vivre Sa Vie

Now Near. Now Far.

It was all commercials. Him/her/it/them, whatever
It was all commercials Him/her/it them, whatever
It was all

him-her---it--------them, whatever

Then he interrupted... you know, scales are really feathers, if you look at a scale you can tell. It plans to become a feather. In about two million years

We waited there, chasing each ray and each terror, into the light with impatience alone

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

We are addressing you (may we succeed)

I can hear what you're saying, he concedes

On the poise of heroes

Where the space sings back to you, irreducible you

The new listening: fidelity

The new speaking: skipping unevenly back to the start after every bar

The new silence: (It is very tedious) all appreciation as renunciation

It is the only way to one, the new sublime, a show of hands, is very tedious, and

there is no one or other left to blame for newness or what faith is at the last minute, is just the first minute anyways, a reenactment

Monday, April 4, 2011

Holy Calamity

Reflection works well when stationary or being everywhere, my pending being reflex-reflex-- unseen

The linear mind comes in and tries to talk you out of it, or in, as an origin of the space between letters was breath, if you calm down you get i n n u e n d o, west facing window, go-rain, a water cheer, keep spilling the glass down itself in that capillary of an arrangement we have

Though later I will learn about him, and about the bridge. Hill not his, hills not his

Ganja, Hess, Narcissus and a gold crib, called home from the rib, hip word for cages built dry from the cryer, shy apple, Griot, Djeli... and Vesperrrr fa , fuh, farther and what a whispered scream reverses of a silhouette.

My feet get in the air and be neighbors

Dear, sober one, be near me and Malcolm said we are afraid to bleed, not me, yes me, not you, yesterday, 1965, an untraining I tried turned out like high-road

not sobriety, gunslinging bird of a whistled scream, paradise's fleeing feeling,

A river's feet in the air... good neighbor, neighbor, life-sized toy train, making the shape of learning cursive, or what a curse is, swirls, blesses, and besides this, wrists so delicate they can jive and give at the same time, they exit, they are hip, at the same time they ancient

Get out of my word, memory, for what it's worth, short list of neighbors braiding the shores together, but trust, is not just a togetherness thing, get out of his words

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Friday, April 1, 2011

April flows beneath the skin

A raw blue human place for kindred, or professional and distant

It's just the simple past skips infinitives like natives passing their seed to hostile boats unassumingly, ships I mean, but they called them boats to be kind and generous

to be conquered on each journey through tenses, the world takes character and breaks it into since songs, take care of her

Talk her there -- and there

except that you is a form of gratitude clasping as the verb-black moonlight, raspy with honor, smooth with nerve

and this thing I am drawing

and it stays drew

He said it almost makes you wanna go grab a bottle and be that Sambo they thought you were in the first place

I said what if you were given permission to shed the safety of history, vendor, ven diagram, vendetta, hi-hat slammed west, would you stay black as April skinned into Juneways, and not on paper property or some contained damage makes for beauty-- I would stay